Blue Eyes
by castielsgrace
Summary: Kurt has been able to see the dead for as long as he can remember. It's why he hates old buildings and graveyards; too many spirits in need of guidance. Naturally his dad picked the oldest house in Lima. And of course the ghost lives in Kurt's bedroom.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Alright, guys. So yeah, another new story. I know, I should probably finish some other ones up first but the plot bunny wouldn't go away, haha. So I took inspiration from Meg Cabot's "The Mediator" series for this one, because I've loved that series for a really long time and I've been imagining a Kurt as Suze for a while. **_No, the story will not follow Meg's. _**I took _inspiration_ from her story. I am not taking her story. I cannot guarantee you a happy ending yet, because I don't know if they'll have a happy ending or not yet. Hell, at this point I don't know if they even get together. Guess we'll have to see!

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><p>The house was old. Ancient, really. I could practically <em>see<em> the history oozing from its old walls. I only barely managed to suppress a groan, knowing that my father, new stepmother and stepbrother were still standing behind me with huge smiles on their faces. I could hear Finn talking excitedly with my dad about how cool the new house was, and forced myself to smile as I turned around to face them.

"What do you think, bud?" Dad asked cautiously, and for good reason too. He, of all people, knew I hated old buildings (even if he didn't know why), and now I had to _live_ in one.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and kept my smile steady, "It's great, dad."

"We left your room completely up to you to decorate, Kurt honey." Carol said happily, "Your father even made sure you had the best view in the house."

I smiled wider and nodded, letting her lead me into the house and up the wood stairs, stopping on the second floor where dad took Finn to his room. Carol led me up one more flight of stairs and I discovered that this floor had only one room, with only one door. I reached a shaky hand out and opened the door to my new room. We were hit immediately by a bright light, and after my eyes adjusted I realized that it was coming from the large window directly across from the door, fully equipped with a window seat I would have run straight for. Under normal circumstances, that is.

"Will it do?" Carol asked, and I could tell she was nervous.

"It's amazing Carol," I gushed, "Thank you." She looked me over once more before excusing herself from the room and leaving me to unpack.

As soon as I was sure I could no longer hear her soft footsteps, I turned back to the window seat.

"Okay, what do you want?" The boy sitting there stared at me with wide eyes before looking behind him, obviously in shocked that I was indeed talking to him.

"You… you can see me?" He asked quietly, and it was clear he hadn't used his voice in a _very _long time.

I suppose I should explain. I'm Kurt Hummel; you're seemingly average gay teenage boy. I live in a dreadfully small town known as Lima, Ohio, and have big dreams of getting as far away from it as I can. Possibly the most interesting thing—definitely the most unfortunate I must say—is that I can see the dead.

Yup, you read that correctly. I can see hear, and touch (though I generally prefer not to partake in that) the dead. Hating old buildings seems a lot more reasonable when you're forced to be around a bunch of complaining ghosts, eh?

I've been plagued with this unfortunate "gift", as some people like to call it, since I was two. I mean, I'm sure I've had it my whole like but the earliest encounter I can remember was at two. And, god, did I wail for my mother when I saw that lady at the top of the steps. Sadly, my mother had simply brushed it off as nothing.

Ever since then I've helped hundreds of the diseased make it to wherever people go when they finally enter that bright light. Be it heaven, hell, reincarnation… that part's not my problem. All I have to do is make sure they get there, though I do admit that sometimes that can be a huge pain in the ass. Despite what you may think, there are some really stubborn ghosts.

The only time I really consider it as a "gift" is when my mother stops by to visit. She passed away from cancer when I was only six and three quarters, and I thought that would be the last time I would ever see her; the last time I would ever have a tea party with her or cuddle with her in bed on those rare nights filled with thunder and lightening. For some reason, though, she didn't pass on. She still hasn't passed on, actually, and she won't tell me why. I've honestly just stopped asking. It's not like I exactly _mind_ having her around, after all.

"Yes, I can see you," I said after a minute, "What I would like to know is why you're still here. In my room."

"Well… I'm afraid I'm _dead_." The boy stood up and I noticed immediately that he was just a tiny bit shorter than me.

"I get that much, thanks. I mean what's stopping you from leaving?" He gave me a blank look. "Why haven't you crossed over, moved on, left the pathetic world of the living?"

"I don't want to leave yet." He shrugged and looked away, "I like it here."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't be staying here. It's not right."

"I've been living here for close to 150 years, cero. I think I know what is right better than you." There was a hint of anger in his voice, and his hazel eyes seemed to darken a shade.

"Ah, that would explain your clothing, then." I sighed, "None the less, you can't stay here. This is my room now, and I would like to be able to change clothing without worrying about some ghost guy watching."

"I have a name, you know?" He still seemed angry as he ran a hand through his slightly messy dark brown curls. "It's rather rude of you not to ask it."

"I don't see _you_ asking me _my_ name," I responded defensively.

"What is your name, then?"

"Kurt Hummel, and yours?"

"Blaine," He responded simply.

"Okay, Blaine, great. Now we need to discuss you leaving. Because there is no way I'm sharing my room with-" I trailed off when I noticed he had disappeared. God, I hated the dead. So finicky.

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><p>I woke up early the next morning, immediately heading into the en suite bathroom in my room. I may hate the school I attend, but I still had pride. I wanted to look my best, even if there wasn't anyone to appreciate it. Just as I was about to start on my skin regimen, Blaine materialized behind me. I let out a shocked screech and dropped the bottle of lotion I was holding.<p>

"My god, what do you think you're doing?" I asked him, spinning around to look him in the eye.

"What are _you_ doing?" He asked, grabbing the bottle out of my hand. "What is this?"

"That," I replied through a clenched jaw, grabbing the bottle from his hands, "Is lotion. For my skin."

He pulled a face, "That's weird. Why do you need to put stuff on your face?"

"So I don't get acne."

"We managed fine when I was alive." He shot back.

"Yes, well, apparently you also thought barging into bathrooms was okay back then, too." I sighed, putting the bottle down on the counter and placing a hand on my hip. "Look, I kind of need to get ready for school now, if you wouldn't-" I hadn't even finished my sentence and he was gone.

I went through my morning routine as quickly as I could manage, making downstairs in time for breakfast only to find Finn had already eaten most of it. Carol popped her head around the corner.

"Oh, good morning sweetheart." She looked over to where Finn was sitting and frowned. "I told you to leave some of that for Kurt!"

"Sorry." He replied, though it sounded more like 'Soffry' through the food his was still in the middle of chewing.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. Do you want me to make you something?" Carole asked with a smile.

"No, it's fine. I'll just eat an apple on the way." I looked over at my new sibling, "Am I giving you a ride?"

"Yeah." He shoved the rest of the toast he was holding in his mouth and stood up, grabbing his backpack off the back of his chair and walking towards the front door. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table, said goodbye to Carole, and walked outside to the car dad had gotten me for my 16th.

The drive to school was fairly quiet. I pegged it to the fact that, before our parents got hitched, I had a huge crush on Finn. I'd gotten over it—thankfully—but he was still ridiculously weary around me. Like he thought I was going to go all crazy and force myself on him or something.

As soon as we reached the parking lot, Finn was out of the car. I rolled my eyes and scanned the lot quickly for potential tormentors before getting out myself. I really didn't want to get thrown in a dumpster this morning. Luckily I got into the building scathe free, only to be bombarded by Rachel.

I couldn't say I was particularly fond of the girl. She was really self-centered in ways—mainly her huge ego. Seriously, she thought she was amazing even though she was told differently on a daily bases—and she talked. _A lot._ But I respected her indifference towards the haters and her confidence that she wouldn't spend her whole life in Lima, Ohio.

"So Kurt, any interesting spirits in the old house you moved into?" Oh, and because she was the only person alive who knew about my secret. She was also the only person I knew who could also see the dead. That's sort of how we became 'friends'; because we're both cursed with the damn power. Or, as Rachel refers to it, our 'gift'.

"Yeah, a guy that's been living in my bedroom for the past 150 years." I deadpanned.

"Ooh, is he cute?"

I tilted my head to the side in thought. Now that she mentioned it… he actually kind of was. For a 150 year old dead guy, I mean. Not that I would ever tell her that. "He's a pain in the ass, for sure."

She squealed again, "Lima was getting so boring. I am _so_ glad something finally came up!"

That's another thing about her I would never get; she actually _enjoyed_ helping these people. She loved it, even if they were unhelpful, ungrateful and rude. She only ever saw it as a positive thing. But then, she was just a generally chipper person.

"You _have_ to introduce me!" She clapped her hands together and took out her day planner. "Are you free after school from 4-5? I've got Ballet today after school, and I need at _least_ two hours of vocal practice but-"

"Rachel, he'll barely talk to me at this point. Can you give me a couple days to, I dunno, get some information out of him?"

She nodded, though I could see she was upset. "Alright. Sometime next week then."

* * *

><p>When I got home and found an empty house, I could've leaped for joy. After the two slushie facials and the hell I went through just trying to get <em>one<em> solo in Glee that afternoon… I don't know if I could deal with that right now. I just wanted to go up to my room, fall onto my bed and read some _Vogue_. But of course that would be too much to ask for.

"What is this?" Blaine asked. _He_ was the one sitting on my bed, the latest copy of _Vogue_ in his hands. "Why are all these girls so scantily clad?"

"Have you seriously not left this house in 150 years? That's how people dress nowadays." I walked over and snatched the magazine from him. "Girls stopped dressing like nuns in the 60's."

"For your information," He stood up and walked to the window seat, "I _have_ been out of this house. I just think that a girl dressing like _that_ is horrendously inappropriate. Not that your current attire is much better."

I looked down at myself, taking in the long off-the-shoulder grey sweater, black skinnies and boots. I raised an eyebrow, "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"You look like one of those girls. You're a young man, are you not?"

I stared at him in a shock silence for a moment before rushing into my bathroom and slamming the door behind me. Even a dead guy thought I looked like a girl! Why couldn't I just love fashion? Why did that have to be such a _huge problem_ with everyone?

"Kurt?" I looked into the mirror and saw Blaine standing behind me. He looked concerned. Why did he look concerned, he was the one who'd insulted me not two minutes ago!

"Go away."

"Kurt… I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just… I'm confused." I felt a hand on my shoulder and quickly shoved it off. "I simply meant that you were wearing things typically worn by girls. Was I wrong about that?"

"No…"

"I didn't mean to insult you. If it's any consolation, I think you look fine." There was a pause and then he spoke again, "Why did you react so harshly, though?"

"That's none of your damn business." I shot, spinning around to face him. "Look. You're dead. You need to move on. You've already been here for over 150 years, you should be long gone. _What is holding you back_?"

"I've told you already. I like it here."

"Yeah, well I don't particularly care. It's my senior year, and I do _not _want to spend it living with a dead guy."

"I've been here longer than you. You really have no say in the matter."

"Okay, well if I'm stuck living with you, there's something you really should know. I'm gay." I saw his expression change immediately, "Yup. Pretty sure that was some sort of faux pas in your time, was it not?"

"_Madre de Dio._" He muttered, and then he was gone. I let out a sigh, thankful that that had worked. Now I just had to hold on to the hope that he wouldn't come back. I had to keep telling myself I didn't _want_ him to come back. Because he was _not_ attractive. Not in any way.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I cannot believe I managed to write this in one day. I honestly think it's because of all of your support. I honestly didn't expect this story to be as well-recieved as it was, but I'm so glad you guys like it so far! I hope you'll stick with my as I go!

Also, for anyone who's new to my stories: This isn't going to be a usual thing. I'm not one of those authors that can tell you when I'm going to update for sure. I can make guesses, but I'm also at school full-time so it all depend on my homework load. I hope you'll understand, and enjoy the chapter. :D

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><p>"What class is this?" I jumped nearly a foot in the air, dropping my pencil at the sound of Blaine's voice. The classmates around me gave me weird looks, but I was more worried about the dead guy standing behind me. "Kurt?"<p>

My hand shot into the air. "Yes, Kurt?"

"Can I go to the bathroom?" My teacher nodded, and I made my way out of the room as quickly as I could, hoping Blaine would get the idea and follow me. I had almost made it to the bathroom when I saw a group of jocks in Letterman jackets approaching me, all with slushies in their hands. I took a step back only to find Blaine right behind me.

"Kurt, are you okay?" He asked, but it was too late. I had nowhere to go, and judging by the smirks on the guys' faces, they knew that too.

"Hey, fairy. What're you doing out of class?" One of them asked. "Do you need to go fix your make-up?"

"Just leave me alone."

They started to form a circle around me, each holding a slushie and smiling. "Now, Kurt. That's not a very nice thing to say."

"Yeah, we just wanted to give you a little present." They all started to laugh, and then I felt the cold slap of the ice against my face, my neck. I could feel it running down my shirt and the syrup was already stinging my eyes. I listened in a pained silence as their laughter got quieter as they walked away, though I didn't miss the slurs thrown my way as the last of them walked past me.

I made my way as quickly as I could to the nearest washroom. I didn't check to make sure Blaine was following; I didn't care if he was at this point. As soon as I got into the bathroom, I started to run the water. The syrup was starting to burn, I needed to get it out of my eyes.

"What was _that_?" I looked in the mirror above the sink and saw Blaine standing there.

"That was a day in the life of Kurt Hummel." I sighed, "Like I said, I'm gay. They don't like it."

"So they throw—what did they throw at you?"

"Slushie. It's a mixture of crushed ice and flavoured syrup." I splashed the now warm water in my face, rubbing my eyes to try and get it out. "It stings."

"That seems a bit unfair. Are there not rules against such a thing here?"

I turned around to try and get my head under the sink, knowing already I would probably have to go find Rachel. "Not unless a teacher catches them. Which doesn't happen."

I saw Blaine watching me, observing what I was doing. God, I didn't want him here. I didn't want him seeing me like this. I needed him to think I was strong if I ever wanted him to leave me alone and move on. If I looked helpless he was just going to take advantage of me.

"Look, you can't come to my school like that. I can't just start talking to thin air; people are going to think I'm crazy."

"They don't know you can see me?"

"Of course not. They wouldn't believe me even if I _wanted_ to tell them." I let out a groan of frustration and stepped away from the sink. It was hopeless.

"Do you need help?" Blaine asked slowly, cautiously. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell him to leave, but I also really, _really_ wanted the stuff out of my hair before it got all sticky. I nodded slowly and he paused to look around for a moment before spotting a chair in the corner. I had a feeling it was the one Puck used to spy on the girls in the bathroom, but when he pulled it over and told me to sit, I didn't argue.

I closed my eyes, letting the feel of the warm water flowing over my hair calm me. I didn't let myself worry about someone coming in and finding me, I just let it all happen. When I felt Blaine's fingers touch my hair, I jumped.

"Sorry," He apologized, immediately removing his hands.

"No, it's okay. I just… wasn't expecting it."

He nodded and continued what he was doing. I had to admit that it felt nice. "So that happens to you every day?"

"Almost every day, yeah. Usually I get off lucky and it's only one jock with one slushie, though." I sighed, "I'm the only out gay kid at school, I'm used to it."

"Is it still bad… to be gay?" Blaine asked slowly.

"No. Well, yes. Sort of?" I shrugged, "It's not frowned upon everywhere, people are starting to accept it. Hell, in Canada we can even get married. America's getting there, but I live in Ohio. It's a pretty close-minded place. Especially Lima."

"I see…"

"I know that you probably think I'm evil, too, though." I sighed, "At least you have a legitimate reason."

"I don't think your evil."

"But you do think there's something wrong with me, right?"

Blaine's hands stopped moving, and I opened my eyes so I could look up at him. "No… I don't."

He was silent for a moment before he smiled and stepped away. "I think it's all out of your hair now."

"Thanks," I muttered, standing up and feeling slightly awkward. "Look, I know I've probably been a bit harsh, but you can't pop up out of nowhere at school, okay?"

"Yes, I apologize. I let my curiosity get the best of me."

"It's okay; just… give me some warning if you're going to tag along, yeah?"

"Okay, cero." He smiled. And damn, he had a nice smile. I hated that I realized that, but it was so… warm, so comforting. I was starting to think he was okay. For a dead person, I mean.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"It's nothing."

* * *

><p>By the time I walked into Glee at the end of the day, I was exhausted. Apparently my teachers had decided today was pop quiz day, because I had had one in every single class. To put it simply, I was looking forward to being able to just sit and do what I love for a bit.<p>

"Hey, Kurt!" Rachel exclaimed happily as soon as I walked into the room. "How are you on this lovely day?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you going to sing today?" She asked, "Or do you want me to go first?"

"Yes, I'm going to sing Rachel," I sighed. We sat quietly—or, I did. She never really shuts up—and waited for the rest of our classmates to arrive. Mr. Schue came in five minutes after everyone arrived.

"Okay, who wants to go first?" He asked, smiling at us as if he wasn't late for the third time that week. I put my hand up quickly. "Kurt, awesome!"

I stood up and walked to the front of the classroom, nodding to the band and signalling them to start playing. The sounds of the acoustic guitar filled the room quickly as I waited for my queue to start singing.

_I remember the tears streaming down your face_

_When I said, I'll never let you go_

_When all those shadows almost killed your light_

_I remember you said, don't leave me here alone_

_But all that's dead and gone passed tonight_

_Just close your eyes _

_The sun is going down_

_You'll be alright_

_No one can hurt you now_

_Come morning light_

_You and I'll be safe and sound_

I looked around at my classmates for a moment before my eyes landed on someone in the back corner of the room. Someone who hadn't been to school in a long time. I couldn't read his expression, but for some reason I wanted Blaine to like it.

_Just close your eyes_

_The sun is going down_

_You'll be alright _

_No one can hurt you now_

_Come morning light you'll be safe and sound_

_Just close your eyes you'll be alright_

_Come morning light _

_You and I'll be safe and sound…_

"That was great, Kurt," Mr. Schue said, clapping as he stood up and walked to the front of the room. He clapped me on the shoulder as a signal to sit down. I looked to the back corner in search of Blaine, but he was gone.

"Hey, Kurt, are you coming to the movies with us tonight?" Rachel asked when I sat down

"I don't know…"

"Please, Kurt, please?" She pouted at me, "We all really want you to come."

"Fine, Rach. I'll be there, okay?"

"Awesome!"

* * *

><p>I showed up at the theatre at seven to find everyone already there. Rachel was standing with Finn's arm around her shoulder. Their relationship still kind of grossed me out. She was so short in comparison; it almost looks like he was trying to use her as an arm rest.<p>

"Hey Kurt!" Rachel exclaimed happily when she saw me. She skipped over and linked her arm through mine. "Okay, guys, we can go in now!"

Once we had all gotten our tickets and made our way into the theatre. We filled up the last row of the theatre, and I could see a few of the senior citizens that were already there giving us dirty looks. It was obvious they didn't want us to ruin their movie experience.

I zoned out of the conversations of the rest of the Glee club, staring at the advertisements on the large screen without really reading them. My mind kept wandering back to Blaine. He was… different than the other ghosts I'd met. He wasn't looking for something; he wasn't using me simply as a way of moving on. He wouldn't even tell me how he died or why he was here.

I felt Rachel grip tightly to my forearm, her nails digging into my skin. "Ow, Rachel, what the heck?"

"Kurt," She said under her breath. Her eyes were wide and she wouldn't loosen her grip, "Kurt look at the screen."

I gave her a confused look, but turned to face the screen again. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw what she was staring at. Because there, floating in mid-air in front of the screen, was a girl.

Now, normally ghosts will take the form of their healthiest point in life. They don't look like they did when they died; if someone got their head blown off they wouldn't be wandering around the afterlife headless. That's not how it worked. But the girl in front of the screen looked positively dreadful. Her hair was long and blonde, but it looked as if she was drenched in water. Her eyes seemed appeared to be sunken in and her clothes were ripped and tattered.

"Kurt you see her too, right?" Rachel hissed at me just as the opening credits for the movie started.

"No, Rachel, I'm completely blind. Of course I see her!"

"What do you think she's doing here?"

"I don't know," I sighed, "But I really don't want to go ask her."

"Neither do I… she looks kind of scary."

"Who does?" Finn asked from beside Rachel.

"Oh, just a friend of ours." He looked back to the screen, seemingly satisfied.

"Rachel we have to go find out what she wants."

"How?"

"I don't know, but we need to get her out of here somehow." I bit my lip, trying to think of something. "Look, Rach. You just find a way to get her out of the theatre. I'll deal with the rest."

"Kurt-"

"Rachel, just do it." I stood up and rushed down the steps, hurrying into the main lobby of the theatre. I didn't know how she was going to do it, but I knew Rachel would pull through. She always did, even if she was annoying at the best of times. Sure enough, I only had to wait ten minutes for the spirit to show up.

"What do you want?" She asked. Her voice was cold and raspy. It made my skin crawl, but I simply turned on my heel and walked out of the theatre. "Hey! Where are you going? I'm talking to you!"

I kept walking, knowing that she would follow after me. She was stubborn, I could tell that already. There was no doubt that she would want an answer. Sure enough, when I got outside and away from the public's leering eye and turned to face her, she was there.

"Oh, someone decided to finally talk to me?" She sneered, "God, I hate people like you."

"What do you want? What's stopping you from moving on?" I asked, choosing to ignore her comments.

"I'm not leaving. Not while he's with that skank."

"You're sticking around, looking like _that_, because of a _boy_?" I threw my hands up, "God I'm tired of having to deal with people like you. He's moved on; get over it."

"You bitch!" She shrieked, and before I could react I felt her hand connect with my cheek. The force behind it caused me to fall off-balance and I stumbled to the left.

"Ow," I said, reaching a hand up to rub at my cheekbone, "That _hurt_."

"Good!" She yelled, and then she was pulling her arm back again. This time she full-out punched me. Her fist collided with my eye, and I knew it would bruise. _Now_ I was pissed off. No one messed with my flawless skin and got away with it. I surged forward and grabbed hold of the hair at the nape of her neck with one hand. She wailed in pain, and I knew I had her.

"You want to get violent?" I asked, "I've been dealing with ghosts like you for my entire life. I can pack a good punch. Oh, and just so you know? The same rules don't apply to the dead as they do to the living; I'm fully prepared to hit a girl if she's dead."

To back up my statement, I punched her in the stomach. Her eyes went wide and she started to cough. I let go of her hair and she fell to the pavement, glaring up at me for a moment before disappearing. I let out a sigh of relief. I really didn't want to get into it with her out here. It was too exposed, seeing that it was still fairly bright out. I took out my phone so I could text Rachel, knowing there was no way I would be able to go back into the theatre looking like I did. The ghost had managed to do some pretty good damage, for someone who was dead.

**To: Rachel**

_Can you tell Finn he needs to find his own way home tonight? I can't come back in there._

**From: Rachel**

_What happened? Are you ok? Do I need to come out there?_

**To: Rachel**

_I'm fine. She decided to get violent. Black eye._

**From: Rachel**

_Are you sure you don't want me to come out there?_

**To: Rachel**

_YES. I'm just going to go home. Dad and Carole are out for dinner so I've got the house to myself for a bit._

**From: Rachel**

_Unless Mr. Mysterious is there._

**To: Rachel**

_Whoops, driving now. Can't text._

* * *

><p>Unfortunately Rachel was right about Blaine being there when I got home. I found him sitting at the window seat with <em>Philosopher's<em> _Stone_ in his hands.

"This book is so interesting," He said without looking up, "This young boy, Harry… He's quite interesting. I like the red-haired boy. Oh, what was his name?"

"Ron." I answered as I took off my shoes.

"Yes-" Blaine looked up and stopped speaking. In the span of about two seconds he'd placed the book down and was standing directly in front of me, fingertips grazing my cheekbone where I knew there were finger-shaped bruises from her slap. "What did you do, cero?"

"Nothing," I shrugged, "Bullies."

"Madre de Dio, I didn't know it was this bad…" He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards my bathroom, sitting me down on the edge of my bathtub and grabbing the cloth I kept next to the sink. He ran it under some cold water before turning back to me and dabbing at the right side of my face. "You should tell someone."

"No, it's fine. I got a few good hits in, too."

Blaine laughed, and I glared. "Sorry, but I doubt that. Those guys today were a lot bigger than you; you probably didn't do much damage."

I stuck my tongue out at him and folded my arms across my chest. He laughed again, but it wasn't a mocking laugh like what I was used to. It seemed like more of a "Oh-you're-so-silly" laugh, and I couldn't help but break a small smile, even if I didn't want to.

"Ah, he smiles!" Blaine exclaimed, throwing his arms up, "Someone call the Queen."

"Ha ha, you're so funny. Has anyone ever told you that? Seriously, you must've been a legend."

"Oh, I was." We both started to laugh again, and I realized that I hadn't laughed this hard in a really long time. Blaine, somehow, managed to cheer me up no matter what. Which was not good. I didn't like him. He was some dead guy who needed to get out of my room, he was _not_ my friend.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever want me to, I don't know, teach those fools a lesson… I will." As I looked into his eyes, I realized that he was completely serious. All I had to do was ask him, and he would do it. It made me nervous, but yet I felt… safer.

I smiled at him, "Thanks, Blaine."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** For anyone who's going to correct me on my spelling: I am Canadian. We spell 'theater' like 'theatre', 'flavor' like 'flavour', 'color' like 'colour', and for us it is still Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, not Sorcerer's Stone. I don't mind if you give me criticism, but please take account of my nationality.


End file.
